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romantic poetry

como ella
para mí era concejal gaunt, grave
pero alas, sueńos justos
estoy viejo y oculto
algún se quejó al amo
de piso al techo
el existir del cisne
el movimiento de su cuerpo es como música
viejo vino a beber
cuando los mar-vientos perforaron nuestras soledades
debajo de la luna de la cosecha
porqué lo haga
debajo del timón del guerrero

 



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